


Wicked Appetite

by deadheads



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Maze Runner, Pre Scorch Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadheads/pseuds/deadheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What they felt was unspoken. Thomas knew Newt’s pain and understood it well. The grief for the loss of a lover before he’d even had one. Love, reciprocated but never given the peace or time to flourish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Appetite

 

 

It was deathly silent in the hall of bunks.

 

The surviving Gladers were unable to keep themselves awake any longer than a few fleeting minutes after such an overwhelming ordeal.

 

Their bellies were full.

 

They had beds to sleep in – actual _beds_.

 

They were safe, and for that, they were grateful.

 

So, despite the bloodshed and trauma of their escape, most fell asleep quickly, unable to stay conscious any longer.

 

Some remained awake, chattering about the day’s events.

 

A few cried into their pillows, letting their emotions take over, tortured by what they had seen.

 

Thomas listened, waiting for them to succumb to their exhaustion one by one, waiting for the silence to settle in.

 

He needed to think.

 

He needed to just… feel.

 

For a while, at least, he needed to let everything wash over him.

 

And soon, he had the quiet he craved.

 

It was then he let the feelings of guilt and anger curdle in his belly once more. Thomas closed his eyes, brow furrowing, as he tried to even out his breathing.

 

_“Thomas, find my mum. Tell her…”_

 

Chuck’s last words rung louder than ever in his mind when he felt someone settle their weight on his mattress, calculated movements almost silent.

 

Newt.

 

Only Newt was able to sneak around like that, seeming inhuman, his every breath soft.

 

Thomas swore the boy could even calculate the pressure he placed on the floorboards with the way he moved, as though hovering an inch from the ground.

 

He really was a stealthy bastard.

 

Thomas rolled from where he was laying on his side, to onto his back, trying to get a good look at Newt through the veil of darkness between them.

 

Newt was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands curled in his lap, eyes downcast.

 

Even in the dark Thomas could see how broken he looked.

 

He knew that feeling; knew it all too well.

 

“Newt?” Thomas began, voice raspy, a near whisper in the hall of Gladers, “Are you okay?”

 

It was a stupid question, but it made the other boy crack a smile.

 

“No, you shuck,” Newt’s voice sounding soft, yet strained, expression crumbling back to one of misery, “But thanks for asking.”

 

Thomas gave a weak smile in return.

 

It felt like they’d never be happy again.

 

“Tommy,” the blonde’s words were barely a whisper, sounding as though on the verge of an emotional breakdown, “Can I just sleep in your bunk tonight?”

 

The words made his heart break a little.

 

Newt, like a child crawling into their parent’s bed after a bad dream, wanted the comfort of Thomas by his side.

 

Having lost so many boys, having seen so much, he understood why.

 

For the older boy, seeing Alby’s mental health waste away would’ve been one load to deal with, but seeing him toss himself to the Grievers – all for nothing – would’ve been much like the grief he felt for Chuck.

 

Poor and sweet Chuck.

 

Lifting the covers up, he motioned with a wave of his hand for Newt to slide in beside him.

 

Newt didn’t hesitate.

 

The way the boy complied so quickly made his heart flutter.

 

Thomas wasn’t prepared for the sudden warmth of the blonde’s little body pressed up against his, nor the head on his chest, or the fingers grasping at his bed-shirt. It was intimate to say the least.

 

Thomas couldn’t help but notice things about the smaller teen. Newt was thin, and his hipbone jutted out too far on one side. His collarbones dipped down harshly, exaggerating his already narrow neck.

 

But his loveliness wasn't what kept Thomas up at night

 

Thomas felt as though he was decoding yet another impossible Maze when it came to Newt.

 

Newt never gave away too much – just enough to let you know his character was genuine and good, but never enough to know what he’s truly thinking.

 

They stayed like that for a long while, holding on to another, quiet breathing of few Gladers the only sound in the safety of the hall. Thomas’s thoughts began to drift to other things. Things he had pushed to the back of his mind until now.

 

Half of those who set out into the Maze, were dead. Gone.

 

Thomas tried to escape the thoughts, push them away, but they were unrelenting. Not even the feeling of the blonde’s breath against his jugular brought him relief from the haunting feeling of guilt.

 

All those boys, lost. Thomas barely knew half of the names of the boys who were left, let alone those died. 

 

It was as if Newt could read his mind when he spoke.

 

“So many of us died today.” Newt murmured after a few long minutes, sounding numb with shock.

 

He felt wetness seep into his shirt before he realised it was Newt’s tears.

 

“I know,” Thomas replied, attempting to make his voice as gentle as possible, his tentative fingers resting against Newt’s lower back, “It feels like I should’ve done more – done it faster. Maybe more of us would’ve made it.”

 

It made the boy in his arms shudder with emotion, obviously having to silence his pained sobs. He gave a nod.

 

“They died for the rest of us,” Thomas continued, “So we could escape. So we could live.”

 

Thomas let his hand smooth the blonde’s back, rubbing circles along his shoulders. He wanted to soothe Newt’s pain. Thomas wanted to take it away, kiss his tears from his sunken cheeks.

 

He had the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around Newt’s thin waist and do terrible things.

 

Thoughts like that seemed dangerous.

 

He and Newt could never have anything – nothing vaguely normal, anyway.

 

Maybe if he’d been in the Glade with him from the beginning... 

 

But now, when they have no clue what’s on the horizon, there was no way. Thomas wouldn’t allow it.

 

Thomas’s gaze flickered from the planks of the bunk above them back to his bedmate. The boy in his arms was looking up at him with an expression that, frankly, made his stomach flip.

 

Desire.

 

Newt stared at him for a long time, eye contact unwavering, his expression changed from desire to anger to grief in just a few seconds.

 

Thomas stared back, unsure of what to do. He lifted his fingers to cup the boy’s face, earning a soft whine.

 

Newt wasn’t an idiot and neither was Thomas.

 

What they felt was unspoken. Thomas knew Newt’s pain and understood it well. The grief for the loss of a lover before he’d even had one. Love, reciprocated but never given the peace or time to flourish.

 

Newt gave a sob; pushing Thomas’s hand away meekly, before pressing his face into his bicep. Thomas ran his fingers through Newt’s messy hair, trying to soothe him.

 

It worried Thomas beyond belief to think that Newt might be traumatised for the rest of his life. Thomas knew he was - but Newt deserved so much more.

 

“Tommy,” the blonde breathed against his arm, refusing to look at him, “I wish…”

 

“I know, Newt.” Thomas replied, faster than he meant to, his voice wobbling softly as he spoke.

 

The boy in his arms sighed as Thomas pressed a kiss to his brow.

 

They became still, nestled against one another, fingers laced together as Newt drifted into sleep. Newt would’ve been on the verge of delirium with the amount of hours he’d been able to rest in the past seventy-two hours. So, for now, Thomas would watch over him.

 

In that moment, it almost seemed like everything would be okay.

 

But, Thomas knew better than to hope for normalcy. That would be foolish. Whatever was coming next would surely change their fate, but in what direction, he had no idea.

 

For now, he had something to fight for, to survive for, a reason to get up tomorrow and continue living.

 

No matter what, he was going to stay by Newt’s side to the bitter end.

 

 


End file.
